


I wish I could just drop a class (or fuck my TA)

by serenityandtea



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-22 08:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2501312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenityandtea/pseuds/serenityandtea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick is a French TA at the City University of London and Harry really needs some help before he fails the class and loses his scholarship. Of course, the best way to do this is to flirt your way through the tutoring, right? Nick doesn't fall for it, but an insane amount of texts and an open-mic night later, he might have to change his mind...</p>
            </blockquote>





	I wish I could just drop a class (or fuck my TA)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [New_companion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/New_companion/gifts).



> New_companion, I'm crossing my fingers that this is what you asked for and that you'll like it!
> 
> Massive thanks to Zee for helping me out when I needed it and for being awesome in general.
> 
> Apologies in advance for the horrible chat-up lines I used. Believe me, I know. I've never gotten the whole flirting-thing down myself, so I had to use Tumblr and the internet to think of some. You can probably imagine what I ended up with...
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't own anyone mentioned in this fic and everything is very much made-up. No matter how awesome it would be to have Nick as a TA. Songs used are by One Direction and the Human League. Title by 'I Wish I Could Go Back To College' by Avenue Q.
> 
> Enjoy! x

There’s the sound of papers rustling, bags being zipped and feet shuffling down stairs. It’s the end of the last lecture of the week and Nick has never been more ready for the weekend to begin. He’s had a thumping headache for three days now, and he just wants to go to his flat and have a quiet night in; even if it’s Friday and he probably has a million other things that he could or should be doing instead of sleeping.

To be honest, a university lecture hall is without doubt the last place Nick would have imagined himself five years ago. It had never really been his plan to be a French TA at the City University of London, but it was basically the only subject that he didn’t have to put a lot of effort in when he was still in university himself. A few months ago, when one of his old professors had called him up to enquire if he was still looking for a job -when wasn’t he?-, he’d accepted immediately. It seems that he was good enough at something.

He’s not a proper professor –too much training, too little time- but he makes a decent pay by giving a few basic lectures a week, and he even has his own office, so no complaints from him. Of course, it’s not always perfect because apart from the lectures, Dr. Allison also lets Nick do most of the marking for all the years (apart from exams) and that’s more work than he would like. It means a lot of early mornings and late nights, but Nick has never liked a job so much. He can mark papers while watching bad reality TV shows at his flat, so it’s not all that bad, honestly.

“Uh, monsieur, excuse-moi?”

Nick’s head snaps up from where he’s closing up his backpack. Most of the students have already left the lecture hall, all but the boy standing in front of him. There’s a nervous smile on his face and he’s holding his books up against his jumper-clad chest. Nick can’t remember his name for the life of him, but he’s seen him around a few times. The boy mostly keeps to himself, always sitting in the back of the room, scribbling away in a notebook while Nick’s explaining another grammatical aspect.

“Oui?” he answers, slinging his rucksack over his shoulder.

“Uh, je veux, questioner... no that’s not the word, uh... ask que tu veut mon- uh, aider?”

Besides not knowing half of the words, the kid’s pronunciation is absolutely terrible. Nick always thought that French was a beautiful language, but the boy is absolutely butchering it.

“Oui, bien sûr,” Nick replies, putting his bag back on the wooden desk. “Qu’est-ce qu’est votre problème?”

It takes a few seconds for the words to sink in and then the boy’s beaming at him.

“Great! Um... Can I explain it in English? Because I’m not sure if I can do it in French, to be honest. That’s kind of why I need the help...” He gives Nick a little shrug in a what-can-you-do-about-it- way.

“I’d rather have you do it in English than in that horrible attempt you call French. So, spit it out, what do you need help with?” It’s probably a bit too rude, but Nick never believed in sugar-coating things and he sure isn’t starting now. It’s probably a good thing none of his colleagues have ever seen him give a lecture, or he would probably have been fired after two weeks.

“I need help with a lot of things? Like, I understand what you’re talking about most of the time but I just don’t know how to apply the theory? ” the boys says and Nick only now notices his green, wide eyes. It makes him look all innocent and young, even though he has to be at least nineteen or twenty to be in this class.

“All right, so you need like private tutoring? Or do you have some specific questions?”

“Not really specific questions, no. But yes, I’d like some extra sessions. Please.” The boy sounds completely sincere, and Nick can’t remember the last time he had someone eager to get tutoring.

There’s the sound of a clock chiming four times outside and Nick inwardly curses. Only five minutes left.

“Look, Mr...”

“Styles”

“Look, Mr Styles... I really have to go now and catch my bus, but if you want you could come by my office after the weekend and walk in during the open office hours? There’s really not anybody coming to those anyway, so I should have plenty of time to help you then.”

Three minutes later, Nick is running through the doors of the university building. His rucksack is bumping against his back, and for some reason he has the boy’s number saved in his phone as well.

__________________________________

“Honey, I’m home!” Nick dumps his rucksack by the door and kicks his shoes off. There’s the smell of spicy food coming from the kitchen and soft murmuring from the living room. It’s probably stupid, but Nick loves these moments; loves coming home to his favourite people in the entire universe, loves the feeling of homeliness when he steps through the front door.

The murmuring in the living room gets louder and Nick’s just hanging his coat on the rack when a head pops around the corner of the door.

“You’re home late...” the head says and Nick wants to reply with something witty like _yes, I know, mum_ but his headache is getting worse with every passing minute, and he just wants to be on that sofa on the other side of that door already.

“Missed the bus,” he explains and pushes against the door, making his way into the living room. The sofa is already occupied, but that has never stopped Nick before. He flops down on the right side of the sofa, his head already making its way onto the lap that is so conveniently just _there_ , and he lets out a groan.

“Long day?” a female voice enquires from above him and Nick snuggles a bit deeper, letting out a pathetic sigh.

“Hmm... I’ve had a raging headache all day, Dr. Allison gave me about forty papers to mark before Monday, and I missed my bus after the last lecture. I deserve to be pampered tonight, Fifi.”

A weight drops on the other side of the sofa and Nick lifts his legs before laying them down on another lap, and everything is so familiar and home that he just wants to lie here all evening and never get up. Fuck responsibilities; those essays can go grade themselves.

“Well, sorry to say, but Fee and I are going out tonight, so no pampering from us. Maybe you can ask Matt.” Tina says and her fingers are stroking softly his ankle.

“Is it date night tonight?” Nick asks and there’s a ‘hmmm’ from one of them. “That’s alright. I actually have some work to do anyway. Maybe Finchy can help me with some of the papers.”

“Do you want a repeat of last time?”

No, he can honestly say that he doesn’t. The last time his roommate had helped him with his marking, Nick had to redo everything the next day, since Matt’s French was apparently terrible and being drunk hadn’t helped either. Marking papers with a hangover had proven to be even worse than doing it sober, so Nick had never taken Matt up on his offer again (and he offered regularly). Matt won’t touch his TA stuff, and Nick won’t touch anything in the kitchen when the other man is busy cooking.

“Maybe you should just rest for a bit, yeah? We’ll wake you up before supper...”

“...if you’re lucky.”

__________________________________

Nick does indeed get woken up before supper –even if he gets ceremoniously dropped on the floor with a ‘food’s ready!’- and when everyone is finished and the washing up is done, those with an actual life leave for date night. Nick flops down on the sofa once more, having grabbed his rucksack from the hallway, ready to do some work. His headache isn’t completely gone yet, but eating something has actually helped, and maybe doing some work now and having the rest of the weekend off doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.

“Have you seen my red trainers?” a voice asks and Nick looks around the living room. It’s not that unusual that Matt can’t seem to find his sneakers: their flat is once again a complete mess and those shoes could be anywhere. Their coffee table is piled with magazines, books, mugs and coasters; the floor is covered by even more books, records, clothing and for some reason bottles of wine, and it generally is just one big mess. Nick wouldn’t have it any other way though, even if he spends most of his mornings digging through piles of clothes for that one specific shirt he wants to wear.

Nick can’t remember a time when their flat hasn’t been a mess. You’d think that living with two females would take care of that fact, but it never had and probably never would.

Ten years ago –that sounds like such a long time ago, he’s getting _old_ \- when he had started university and desperately needed a place to stay after he broke up with his boyfriend (and roommate), he had met Fiona at a university class. They had instantly hit it off and started rooming together; Nick dealing with his problems and managing university at the same time. Fiona had taken her time with him, slowly piecing him back together, and a few months later she had cautiously asked if Nick had a problem with her girlfriend, Tina, moving in. Nick had agreed and two weeks later they had another roommate. It only took them a few months to realise that their flat was too small for the three of them, and instead of kicking Nick out –like he would have done if the tables had been turned- they moved to a new flat. They realised that they couldn’t manage going to university, paying rent and getting groceries with the small amount of money that they made with their odd jobs, so they put out an advertisement for the small, empty room they had left. At the beginning of his second year at university –the girls’ third year- they found Mat. Ever since the four of them have been joined at the hip.

Now, they’re still all living together –albeit not in the crappy flat anymore, but something slightly bigger and better- and Nick doesn’t regret one single thing. Sure, it might be weird that he’s twenty-nine and still rooming with three other adults, but the flat is close to university, Matt is an excellent cook, and even though Tina and Fiona never clean, he couldn’t wish for better best friends. Except maybe some that are a bit tidier because he’s afraid Matt’s never going to find those trainers before their monthly mandatory flat cleaning.

“Have you looked in the hallway?” he replies as he shoves a few magazines from the coffee table before dumping a stack of papers on it.

“Not there. I’ll just wear the black ones then... I’m off to the pub, sure you don’t want to come?” Nick silently points to the coffee table and Matt gives him a sympathetic grin. Without saying anything else, he turns on his feet and moves into the hallway.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” he yells after Matt and then he hears the front door close.

It’s like the universe knows that he’s all alone, because not five seconds after the other man is gone, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Nick skilfully slips it out of his jeans and unlocks the screen.

_hi mr grimshaw!! its harry from french 1! u gave me ur number in class 2day! hope this is ok? i’m bored._

His fingers are typing out a reply before he’s even finished reading.

_You’re bored so you’re texting your TA? Don’t you have any friends to go bother?_

Nick wonders if the other boy always text his professors like this because it’s seriously lacking any kind of formality. Alright, he’s probably the only professor slash Teachers Assistant the boy’s texting because Nick is sure that his colleagues don’t even own a mobile phone, and there probably aren’t any etiquette rules for texting professors. Or, he’s never read them if they existed.

A few seconds later his phone buzzes again.

_i do but theyre busy :( was just wondering if i should bring anything on monday_

A frowny face, really?

_Just yourself. We could also meet somewhere else if you’d rather? Office hours aren’t until two and I don’t want to ruin your whole day by coming to uni after one._

He throws his phone on the sofa before grabbing the first paper from the table and uncapping his red pen. He doesn’t really know what’s wrong with him for suggesting to go somewhere else but he doesn’t have to be at uni before two anyways, and he’d rather do this thing and get over with it as early as possible so that he can spend his open office hours talking to Ian, the music TA.

He’s just two paragraphs in –two horrible paragraphs, mind you- when his phone buzzes again.

_i probably need lots of help w/ everything! monday morning ok? coffee shop on campus?_

_Monday morning is fine. 9.30? I hope your French is at least better than your texting skills. Horrendous. Not going down in history for that._

It’s probably too friendly or too informal or whatever, but if Harry is set on texting his TA like that, Nick is sure he can at least be a bit honest with the boy.

There’s not a reply for the next three hours –which Nick spends furiously scribbling with a red pen- and when he gets ready for bed that evening, his phone still hasn’t buzzed. Fiona, Tina and Matt are still out, and Nick should probably be ashamed that he’s going to bed at half ten on a Friday night, but at least there’s no one home to judge him.

Around three a.m. his phone does buzz, and with his eyes half closed, Nick slaps the pillow next to him trying to locate where the vibrations came from. When he’s finally managed to unlock the screen and has opened his eyes far enough to be actually able to read something, he almost drops his phone in disbelief. Well, at least the boy is straightforward.

_i might not go down in history but i’ll go down on u._

__________________________________

The rest of the weekend passes uneventfully and before Nick knows it, he finds himself entering the coffee shop in front of the science building. He spent his Saturday watching reality TV with a hungover Matt, while Fiona and Tina were planning their next date night at the coffee table in front of them. He also might not have told any of them about Harry’s text because he doesn’t have to tell them to know their reactions. That’s something for another time.

Right now, he really needs his caffeine since he doubts he has actually been awake before ten a.m. on a Sunday before.

“Goodmorning, sir! Welcome to Leprechaun Bakes. How can I help you today?”

The brown-haired boy behind the counter looks like it is anything but a good morning for him; his hair probably hasn’t seen a brush yet, there’s a day-old stubble covering his jaw, and his long-sleeved shirt looks like it’s inside-out. Nick can’t help but sympathise with him; it’s ridiculously early, and on top of that it’s the end of September so everything outside is just looking pitiful, and that’s clearly effecting the boy.

“Um, I’ll have the... Just give me the thing with the most caffeine in it, please.”

“Triple espresso okay?”

Nick just nods at him and hands him some cash. The boy doesn’t even bother to ask for his name, just scribbles something on the cup before handing it over to another barista – blond hair this time and decidedly looking more awake- with a loud yawn.

When his drink is made, Nick plops down in one of the seats by the window. He’s actually fifteen minutes early and it isn’t so surprising that Harry hasn’t arrived yet. It gives him plenty of time to sit back for a while and just bask in the smell of coffee and freshly baked buns.

The bell above the coffee shop rings not even a minute later and Nick reluctantly opens his eyes. It’s definitely Harry that just walked in; big black coat, long hair tied back with a yellow flower-patterned headscarf, and almost tripping over the step. Nick sees him looking around and he raises his hand in greeting. Harry gives him a big grin in return before making his way to the counter and ordering his choice of beverage.

It takes Harry about ten minutes before he’s finally sitting down opposite Nick and there’s a big green mug of hot chocolate in front of him on the table.

“Good morning!” chimes Harry happily and Nick is not so sure if he can do this if Harry is this resolute on sounding awake. Or looking awake, for that matter.

“Good morning, Mr Styles. Did they have problems finding the brown cow?”

Harry’s staring at him in confusion and Nick points to his drink.

“Your drink. It took a long time, so I was asking if the brown cows were out of stock. You know, because of the hot chocolate?”

The boy lets out a laugh and starts shaking his head.

“No, the cows are just fine. Niall and Louis are my mates, so we just had a bit of a chat. Sorry to keep you waiting...” he says and Nick shrugs at him before opening his notepad.

“Alright, let’s get down to business. What’s the problem with French and why is it a problem?” he asks Harry, taking a sip from his drink when Harry doesn’t immediately answer. It’s really strong and he’s never ever having a triple espresso again.

“I’m just rubbish at it, I think,” Harry replies and Nick starts to scribble things down. “Whenever you explain something like grammar or anything, I do understand it, I just don’t know how to actually use it? And I understand most of what you say in French, I just seem to forget everything once I have to do it myself. So that’s the problem, I think.”

There’s a silence while Nick is still scribbling everything down in keywords and from the corner of his eye he sees Harry take a sip of his hot chocolate, his eyes closed in bliss. Nick definitely should go with a hot chocolate next time, since it’s surely better than the beverage in his cup.

“I think it’s best if we focus on your oral skills first-”

“You can focus on my oral skills anytime...” Harry drawls and Nick blinks at him. How old is the other boy exactly?

“- and then just see where we go from there.” Nick continues like nothing happened and Finchy would be so proud of him right now. “ Especially if it’s just a case of not being able to ‘use’ it, as you’ve so eloquently put it. I’ve brought some exercises that we could practice, if you want.”

The next hour passes quickly and Nick’s thinking this whole tutoring thing might actually work for the boy. Harry’s starting to sound better –just a bit, but even a bit of progress is progress- and somewhere around the half hour mark they switched from Mr Styles and Mr Grimshaw to just Harry and Nick. It might have had something to do with the fact that they’ve been doing different role plays and _Monsieur Grimshaw_ just sounds so wrong when they’re pretending to be friends lying on a beach in Bordeaux, so first-name terms it is.

The only thing is that there’ve been a lot of not-so-innocent remarks from Harry –he somehow managed to compare the colour of his hot chocolate to Nick’s eyes, even in French- and Nick starting to feel a bit uncomfortable with all the flirting. Not that Harry’s not fit –he’s still has eyes- or that he’s uncomfortable with flirting in general because he isn’t, but he’s also ten years older than the boy and he’s his TA, most importantly.

“Harry?” he asks after another soft touch to his ankle from Harry’s Chuck Taylor’s.

“Yes?”

“I need you to stop flirting with me, okay?”

He’s trying to sound at least a bit cross and adult-like when he says it, and apparently it’s working since Harry immediately starts looking guilty and the pressure from his ankle leaves.

“Oh. Um. Okay.”

“I’m really trying my best to actually teach you something here, but if you’re just here to flirt with me and not take any of this serious, I think it might be better to call it a day...”

“No, no, no!” Harry pleads. “That was- I wasn’t... Please stay? I think I’m finally starting to get it?”

“No more chat-up lines?”

“I promise.” There’s a bit of mumbling following the statement that Nick doesn’t quite catch and when he asks for repetition¸ Harry’s cheeks turn a soft shade of red.

“I said that I’m sorry for the text last night, and I do really need to pass this class...”

Nick ignores the first statement and focuses on the second.

“And you think flirting is the solution?” he asks astonished, and is this what the youth is coming too? Flirting with teachers just to pass a subject? Oh, how the times have changed. Or maybe not.

“Well, I’m rubbish at French, so I had to try something else, didn’t I?”

Harry’s eyes are downcast and Nick’s starting to feel just a bit guilty for some reason

“You’ll get better,” he murmurs and Harry’s head lifts a bit. “But let’s just keep this some kind of professional, alright?”

Harry gives him another one of what Nick likes to call his signature smiles.

“Yes, definitely. Professional. I can do that.”

__________________________________

Nick is not so sure that there’s a lot of professionalism left between the two of them more than a week later. Harry still treats him with the respect Nick deserves when he’s at a lecture, but that’s also where it ends. They’ve been texting frequently over the past week and they’ve met up about twice at the coffee shop instead of at Nick’s office. He likes the atmosphere at the shop and it’s not so bad, now that Niall gives him a complementary muffin whenever he orders something.

Nick decided that the best practice for Harry would just be to _talk_ instead of doing these ridiculous role-plays that even Nick hates, so in the past week Nick has learned more about Harry than what is probably appropriate for a TA (twenty, living with four best mates, single, and loves chocolate and inappropriate jokes). If feels like Harry is quickly turning into more than just a student and Nick doesn’t really mind that much.

When he gets a text on Friday evening saying _‘i’m bored’_ , it only takes him twenty seconds to reply with _‘Come over then. Finchy and I are watching a movie. Join us.’_

Nick snuggles a bit further under his blanket, his feet propped sideways under him. Fiona has refused to let him turn the heater on –‘it’s only September, Grimmy’- and he feels like his toes are freezing off. Matt is sitting in his chair, a matching blanket tucked under his chin, and Nick’s glad that he’s not the only one suffering this evening.

“Harry’s coming over in a mo,” Nick announces and it gets him a raised eyebrow in return.

“Are we doing tutoring sessions in the flat as well now?” Matt sounds slightly judgemental and Nick should really start looking for new friends before all the good ones are taken. Obviously he has a faulty batch.

“It’s not a tutoring session, we’re just hanging out.”

“You do that with all your students?” Matt asks and Nick throws some popcorn at him from the bowl in his lap.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course not. Harry’s coming over as a friend.”

Before Matt can reply, the doorbell rings and Nick reluctantly gets out from under his blanket, shuffling to the front door. The sight he meets at the other side of the door is not one he expected but he probably shouldn’t be surprised about. Harry’s got his hair tied up in another ridiculous scarf and on top of his skinny jeans he’s wearing a black shirt with the top buttons undone. His attire isn’t that surprising –Nick has learned not to be expect anything normal when it comes to Harry’s clothing,- but the white kitten in his arms is.

“Hi!” Harry beams at him and Nick steps aside to let him in.

“Hi, come in,” he says and while Harry’s trying to untie his shoes one handed, holding the kitten in his other hand, Nick’s wrecking his brain to remember what time Tina’s coming home tonight; there’s a strict no-animals-policy in their flat because Tina hates finding fur everywhere, and a kitten is definitely an animal, no matter how cute or small it is.

“Hope you don’t mind that I brought Dusty with me,” Harry says when he’s got both shoes off, “I just got her and Louis refused to cat-sit her and I just couldn’t leave her all alone in my bedroom...”

“It’s fine,” Nick assures him and he pushes Harry towards the living room. When they enter, Matt’s got his eyebrows raised and before he has even opened his mouth, Nick interrupts him with a quick _‘don’t’_. Harry looks confused for a moment before looking all smiles again and he holds his free hand out to Matt.

“Hi, I’m Harry!” he says. “You must be Matt. Lovely to meet you!”

Matt mutters something that at least sounds like a ‘you too’ and Nick steers Harry towards the sofa.

“Sit down. We were just about to start the movie, so grab yourself a blanket from that pile and enjoy.”

Harry grabs himself a baby-blue blanket from under the coffee table and sit down on the other end of the sofa, softly putting Dusty down between his legs. Nick pushes play on the remote, and the whole flat is quiet when the opening credits of 'Kiss Kiss Bang Bang' begin.

Two hours later, and the end credits are rolling over the screen. Harry hasn’t moved once from his spot, but Dusty has managed to make her way from the sofa over to the chair, and is currently curled up in Matt’s lap.

“So, Harry,” Matt starts from the chair, ending the silence, “Why exactly are you taking French if you need extra sessions so bad?”

Harry appears not to be fazed at all by the sudden subject change, and grabs the last bit of popcorn from Nick’s bowl before replying.

“Because I need the credit?”

“Yes, I got that. But why aren’t you doing something that you actually could be good at instead having my mate teach you something we all know is a hopeless case.”

So Nick might have told Matt a bit about their situation and particularly about how impossible it was to teach Harry proper French. In hindsight, that might have been a bad idea.

“It’s not a ho-” Nick tries to interject but Harry just gives him a glance before facing Matt.

“My mate Niall said it would be an easy course, but it isn’t, so sue me. I don’t like giving up on things, so I am going to get the sixty-five per cent in this class that I need to keep my scholarship, and after that I’ll just pretend that it never happened, and pick a different course the next half of the semester.”

“You need sixty-five per cent to keep your scholarship?” Matt asks incredulously and Harry nods in reply. “But that’s like... impossible, right?”

He looks at Nick for support and if he’s honest it does sound a bit unattainable but he’s heard stranger things about scholarships. He figures he should know this stuff as a TA, though.

“It’s not impossible,” Harry huffs. “I’ve got about eighty per cent on all my other subjects right now, I just can’t get French higher than fifty per cent for some reason. Hence, Grimmy helping me.”

So, Nick knew that Harry was smart, but eighty per cent for every subject sounds a bit like an achievement. Nick never got higher than seventy percent himself for anything but to be honest he spent more time going to parties and getting drunk than on actually studying. From what he’s heard form Harry, that’s exactly what the other boy does as well, so how the hell does he manage to get eighty per cent in all his classes? On the other hand, he’s only been at uni for two months now, so everything can still make a change for the worse.

Apparently, Matt is a bit impressed as well. “I’ve got some mates that had a scholarship, but they just needed like to pass classes to keep it. You truly need sixty-five percent?”

“Yeah. I’m on some sort of excellence scholarship. Did really well in secondary school, kept my grades up and applied for one. Only downside is that you only get to retain it if you excel at university as well, so I’ve got to try my hardest. Still don’t understand why I choose French though.”

“What other courses are you doing then?” Matt asks and Nick thinks that if they keep this up, he could as well just leave the room since they obviously don’t need him for this conversation.

“Um, mostly just compulsory ones. I’m majoring in Media Studies and Sociology, so basically just Sociology, Politics, Criminology, that sort of thing...”

The rest of the evening continues in the same matter. Matt asks questions, Harry answers and Nick sulks in his corner of the couch. Every once in a while he interrupts with a question of his own, but he mostly lets the other two do the talking. When it gets two a.m., Harry moves from the couch, collects Dusty in his arms, and he gives Nick and Matt a little wave before he lets himself out of the flat.

“Tina is going to kill you when she finds out,” Matt says and Nick throws a pillow at him. This evening they’d managed to stuff Dusty under a blanket when they heard the front door opening, but Nick is afraid that he won’t be so lucky in the morning when there will be little white hairs all over their brown sofa.

“Shut up,” he whispers back and he gets off the sofa, tugging his blanket with him. He makes his way to his bedroom, passing Matt in his chair and he ruffles his hair. Just when he’s about to close his bedroom door behind him, Matt softly calls out to him.

“What?” Nick asks and he’s _this_ close to just dropping down on his bed and falling asleep in his jeans.

“Harry’s nice, isn’t he? Cute as well...”

Nick knows exactly where this is going and he doesn’t like it.

“Shut it, Fincham.”

“Just saying,” he hears right before he shuts his door and Nick sighs. He’s never going to hear the end of this.

__________________________________

Nick does get into a lot of trouble with Tina. There’s a lot of yelling about ‘house rules’ and ‘is it so hard to think about other people for once, Nicholas!’, and after ten minutes of dumbly nodding along with everything the woman says, Fiona comes to his rescue and takes Tina out of the living room.

From the couch Matt’s giving him this _look_ and Nick scowls at him.

“Don’t you even dare,” he hisses and disappears into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.  
__________________________________

Due to Nick having to do an insane amount of work for Dr. Allison, the next time he sees Harry isn’t until Wednesday. Nick’s next lecture isn’t until five, and apparently Harry has no classes for the whole day, so they decided to meet up at the coffee shop again. He has given up on teaching Harry anything important so they probably can’t be called tutoring sessions anymore, and it’s mostly hanging out and talking about their lives in French. Which, Nick figures, they also could do in his office at university so that he actually gets paid for it, but whatever.

Harry’s already sitting at the corner table, two green mugs in front of him, and Nick gives a quick wave to Louis behind the counter before dropping down in the other chair.

“Pumpkin spiced latte,” Harry beams when he shoves a mug closer to Nick, and there’s something that’s probably supposed to look like a pumpkin swirled into the foam. At least Louis tried.

“Thanks,” he replies and when he looks up from the drink Harry’s staring at him, his eyebrows drawn together.

“Nick?”

“What?” he sighs exasperated.

“Are you a fisherman? ‘Cause I think you’re a reel catch.”

There’s a loud laugh coming from behind the counter and when Nick turns his head, Niall is giving Harry the thumbs up. Harry just looks innocently back at him, and Nick lets out another sigh. He really should have known better.

“Harry...” he reprimands and he gives Harry’s leg a soft kick. “What did we talk about?”

“No flirting,” Harry pouts and he actually looks a bit dejected. Which is ridiculous, of course.

“Exactly. Now, what were we talking about last time?”

“About how me and Ni-” Harry starts and Nick scoffs at him.

 _“En français,”_ he scolds, _“s’il te plaît.”_

Harry pouts at him again but five minutes later Nick’s listening to Harry going on and on about the new song Niall and he wrote, and even though it’s not perfect yet, it’s getting at least closer to sounding a bit French.

__________________________________

_do u know how 2 play fifa? or cod??_

_Yes to both._

_do u want 2 be on my team & beat louis and liam?_

_Uhm. Sure, why not?_

_great. come over in 10._

__________________________________

_u agree w/ me, right Grimmy?_

_Do I even want to ask?_

_just say that u agree w/ me. Im not letting niall win._

_No._

_spoilsport._

__________________________________

 

A week later, it’s two hours before Harry’s oral exam and Nick has no idea how to get him to calm the fuck down.

He got a text twenty minutes ago from an unknown number that just said _‘h’s freaking out. can you come over?’_ followed by an address, and Nick hadn’t even hesitated before grabbing his coat and getting to the bus stop. He’d been met by a frantic Louis at the door and was tugged inside before even being able to say hi.

That’s how Nick finds himself in an extremely clean flat, sitting on a sofa with Harry’s head face down in his lap, four roommates surrounding them, and a cat perched on his shoulder.

“You’ll do just great,” Nick murmurs and there’s just a pathetic whine coming from between his knees. He looks up at the other boys and they all look as lost as him.

“Hazza,” Louis says from Nick’s right, and the only response they get from Harry is another whine. The boy’s a proper drama queen, Nick thinks. “Nick’s right, you know? You’ve been practising so much with him, and with Zayn as well, and you’re going to ace this thing, alright?”

Louis gives Zayn –who looks so much like a bloody model with his perfect hair and his perfect face that it’s not even fair to the rest of the universe- a desperate look and Zayn’s response is to shuffle closer to Nick’s knees, his right hand tangling in Harry’s curls.

“For once Louis isn’t bullshitting you, Haz. You’re going to ace your oral, get hundred percent on your grammar test Friday and then you can keep you scholarship and we’ll go out to properly celebrate, okay?”

It takes a few seconds but then everybody lets out a sigh of relief when they hear a soft “okay.”

After that, it’s a rush of boys running through a flat trying to get Harry presentable within the hour. Louis drags Harry to the bathroom to get showered, Liam is making sandwiches in the kitchen while Zayn’s pouring tea in a thermos, and Niall has flopped down next to Nick on the sofa, coaxing Dusty from her hiding spot on Nick’s shoulder.

“So Nicholas,” Niall starts, and Nick’s going to kill Harry for telling him his full name. “You coming out to celebrate with us tonight?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea?” Nick replies and he hears Niall scoff before he grabs Dusty in both hands and rubs his nose against hers..

“It’s a bloody good idea. Harry’s gonna nail his exam and since you helped him get there, you deserve a drink as well. Ten p.m. at Dorian’s. You know where that is right? The pub with the blue door on campus. Bring your mates as well. ‘S gonna be a proper celebration.”

“I’m a TA, I’m supposed to help ‘m.” Nick mumbles, “Would a be a bit rubbish if I didn’t.”

Maybe if he just ignores the part about getting drinks with a bunch of teenagers –students-, Niall will forget about it.

Niall gets up from the couch and Nick can see him stealing a sandwich from Liam before quickly making his way out of the room, leaving Dusty on Zayn’s shoulders.

“Harry would like you to be there.” He says before disappearing in another room and Nick’s left sitting on the couch, stunned.

He doubts Harry wants him to be there. In the past few weeks, Nick’s heard Harry talk about his best friends plenty of times, and he’s figured out that they’re all pretty close. LiamandZayn –Harry always says it in one breath- are basically the mum and dad of their little flat family. Zayn does all the washing up and makes sure that everybody eats breakfast in the morning, while Liam takes everybody home when they’re drunk and puts them into bed with a glass of water and aspirins on the nightstand. Louis is the rowdy one, always up for a laugh but with a heart of gold, and Niall is their personal cheerleader and therapist. Nick can see exactly how Harry fits into that family, with his need to take care of other people and his horrible jokes. From all the stories Nick has heard so far, he has realised that they’re insanely co-dependent on each other –Liam won’t go to bed before Louis is home and Harry refuses to do any grocery shopping without Zayn- and he’s also pretty sure that having a twenty-nine year old TA tag along to a pub would not be their ideal evening out.

Nick’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t hear Louis and Harry leaving the bathroom until they’re grabbing they’re coats from the rack.

“Um, do you want me to take you there?” Nick asks and he stands up from his seat. He doesn’t even know why he’s still here. They could have handled this crisis perfectly on their own.

“It’s only two buildings over...” Harry replies and oh- of course. They’re living on campus.

Nick just nods at him and grabs his own coat from the rack.

“Well, good luck then!” He grins. “Break a leg, you’re gonna smash it, and just pretend it’s me you’re talking to, alright? You’ll do great!”

Harry gives him a soft smile. “Thanks, Grimmy.”

From the corner of his eye he sees Louis mouthing _‘grimmy?’_ at Zayn who’s also appeared in the doorway and Nick takes this as his cue to leave.

“See you later, alright?” he says to the curly boy and with a wave he walks into the hallway. “It was lovely to meet you, boys!”

__________________________________

When he gets home, he immediately locks himself in his bedroom and starts up his laptop. There’s probably nobody home since everyone’s got their respectable jobs with respectable times, but he’s not taking chances by leaving his door unlocked. He doesn’t need Fiona barging into his room when he’s doing important stuff like calling his other best friend.

Nick’s quick to start up Skype, and just when he’s taking off his shoes and he has flopped down on the bed, there’s an incoming call. He pulls his laptop on his lap and slugs against the headboard while pressing the accept call button.

“Daisy, love! How I’ve missed you...”

The next two hours are nothing but mindless chatter about fashion shows, marketing campaigns, Nick’s job, Daisy’s job, their families, and the ridiculous things they’ve heard on the news in the past week. It’s one of Nick’s favourite parts of the week: Daisy talk. When they were both still in uni (Nick almost finished, Daisy barely starting) they had hit it off instantly, and when Daisy got signed by a model agency two years ago, Nick had been sure to sit front row at her first catwalk show. There’s nobody who knows him quite like she does –Matt is getting close, though-, and he’d like to keep it that way. If he gets married in the hopefully not-so-distant future, he wants Daisy at his side as his best man, tradition screwed.

There’s soft clattering coming from outside his bedroom door, and Nick knows that he should probably steer this conversation to an ending and join the rest of them in the living room if he even wants Matt to think about making him dinner as well. Still, there’s been one thing on his mind since this afternoon, and if he can’t talk to Daisy about it, then with whom can he?

“Dais?” Nick interrupts her and he feels immensely guilty about it. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hear about Italian models in tiny boxers –because he honestly does- but he figures that he’s got about five minutes left and he really needs to get it of his chest. “Do you think that it’s possible to be friends with someone who’s like... nine years younger and your student? Hypothetically, of course.”

There’s a beat of silence and Nick can see Daisy putting her serious face on. “Hypothetically? Yes. I think you can. Why not?”

“Because he’s probably got like this whole other life with like uni and stuff and he probably doesn’t need a twenty-something guy raining on his parade, right? And it’s weird to be friends with your TA.”

“Did he hypothetically actually say that, or is this your imagination running wild?”

There’s a pause in the conversation and Nick is cracking his brain if Harry at some point has even mentioned it being a problem for their friendship that Nick’s older or that he’s sort of his professor as well. Probably not, but only because the boy is too damn polite and doesn’t want to hurt his feelings.

“Well, no. But he would probably be thinking it.”

“Sweetie,” Daisy sounds slightly condescending, “I’m just going to stop pretending that this is hypothetical and just get straight to the point. He probably doesn’t care; just like I don’t care that I’m younger than you are. So far it hasn’t bothered me one bit that you're almost ancient. You’re a big child yourself –don’t even try and deny it- and I’m sure he has his reasons to like you. And I don’t know if you remember, but we were friends with our TA’s as well, weren’t we? Never had a problem with that, did we? But are we really talking about being friends, or are we talking about more-than-friends?”

“Just friends,” Nick mumbles and he can see Daisy staring him down from the other side of the screen. “I swear. Just friends. He’s just really easy to be around, you know? He gets what I’m talking about, and even if he takes ages getting to the point, he has really interesting views on things. His roommates are probably a bit crazy, but he’s got so much love for them, and he’s so passionate about music, just like I am. He’s just a... nice guy, you know?”

Now, Daisy is full on grinning and Nick is so confused. What has she got to smile about?

“Oh, love. He sounds just lovely. Don’t worry about it, okay? I’m sure he’s happy he’s got a friend like you...”

“Yes. You’re probably right.” Nick responds and he checks the clock in the corner of the screen before sending Daisy an apologetic look. “I’ve gotta go or Matt won’t save dinner for me. Talk to you later, alright? Have fun on your Italy trip and don’t hesitate to send me pictures when you’re busy doing your beach shoot. Love ya!”

“Love you too, Grimmers.”

Nick closes his laptop and is on his way to the door when he sees his phone light up from the nightstand.

_Passed w/ 60%. enuff 2 pass if i pass theo as well! x_

Looks like he’s going to celebrate tonight then.

__________________________________

It's ten p.m. when Nick finally steps foot inside the bar -Matt grudgingly following him- and the atmosphere is fanatic. There are so many people wandering around and it takes him a few seconds to make out a few familiar faces in the crowd. The first face he spots is Louis, his light-blue beanie a stark contrast against the darkness of the pub, and Nick makes his way over, tugging Matt along by his hand.

When they get closer to the booth, it’s obvious that Louis has been there for a while already; his eyes glassy and arm draped loosely around a girl’s shoulders.

“Nicholas! You’re here!” Louis cries and the girl shushes him down.

“Yes, Niall invited me?”

Maybe he should have sent Harry a text saying that he’d come as well, or at least he should have checked if it were okay if he tagged along. Maybe Niall hadn’t even asked the other boys and just invited him on a whim. Not that Matt would mind turning around and going home again, but after Nick’s conversation with Daisy he’s totally ready to be friends and friends go out and celebrate with their friends after passing exams, right?

“Yes. Yes. That’s good.”

Louis scoots a little bit closer to the girl on his side, and Nick gives Liam and Zayn a little wave when he sits down next to Louis. Matt plops down on the left side of Liam and raises his hand in greeting as well.

“Hi, ‘m Matt,” he says and there’s a chorus of ‘hello’s’ from the other boys.

“Oh. Right. Matt, these are Louis, Liam, and Zayn. I have no idea who you are, love.” Nicks says apologetically to the girl and she laughs.

“’M Eleanor, Louis’s girlfriend.”

“So, where’s Harry? And Niall?” Nick asks and he cranes his neck a bit, trying to scan the faces in the crowd.

“Oh, they’re backstage,” Liam responds and points somewhere to their left, where a small podium is set up with just two bar stools set up. There are quite a few people gathered in front of it and Nick does remember Harry telling him that him and Niall were doing open mic nights in different pubs whenever they felt like.

“They’re performing?”

“Yeah, I reckon in about two minutes or summat?” Zayn says and he swiftly gets out of the booth, grabbing Liam’s wallet from the table. “You guys want something to drink?”

“That’s my-“

“I know, babe. You’re paying.”

Nick and Matt nod at Zayn, and with a soft kiss to Liam’s cheek he’s off to the other side of the pub. There are only a beat of silence before there’s the unmistakable peep of a microphone being switched on, and all the eyes in the pub are drawn to the podium. Niall comes walking up, an acoustic guitar in his hands, and Harry follows him, holding two microphones that he plugs into the stands.

“Hi,” Harry drawls and he sits down on his stool, tugging his microphone stand a bit lower, “’m Harry, this is Niall, and we’re Second Star to the Right. We’ve only got two songs for you tonight since we’re supposed to be celebrating and not singing, so hopefully you’ll enjoy them while they last!”

There are a few laughs from the audience and Harry beams. His hair is not held back by a scarf tonight, strands of it falling in his face, but Nick thinks he looks good nonetheless. He’s wearing another pair of his skinny jeans with brown boots and a maroon jumper that looks like he stole it from someone with much broader shoulders: probably Liam’s then. Harry tugs on the sleeves a bit –nervous habit, probably- and then gives a small nod to Niall, his hands gripping the stand. The soft strumming of Niall’s guitar starts, and when Harry starts to sing Nick has to admit that he’s a bit surprised. The boy sounds good.

_So your friend's been telling me_  
 _You've been sleeping with my sweater_  
 _And that you can't stop missing me_  
 _Bet my friend's been telling you_  
 _I'm not doing much better_  
 _'Cause I'm missing half of me_

He doesn’t recognise the song –Harry did say something about song writing so it’s probably their own- but Harry’s voice is deep and soft, and it reminds Nick of those Christmas days cuddled up on the couch with his friends and a big mug of spiced wine.

Zayn returns with an armful of beers and he slides back into his seat.

“They’re good, aren’t they?” Zayn asks and Nick can’t help but agree. Niall has taken over from Harry and somehow Harry keeps mouthing the lyrics, his eyes never leaving the audience. He looks so confident on that stage, smiling like this is the best thing ever, and Nick thinks that maybe for him, it is.

_Only half a blue sky_  
 _Kinda there - but not quite_  
 _I'm walking around with just one shoe_

“Fuck, he’s gorgeous,” Matt whispers across from him, and Nick can’t help but reply with a heartfelt ‘yeah’. Only when he catches Matt’s gaze, he isn’t looking at Harry but- oh. Niall?

There are multiple pairs of eyes looking at both of them, and Nick can feel the blood rushing to his head, his heart pounding in his chest. Fuck.

“Fuck,” he swears and Louis just stares at him, a frown on his face. “I- it’s just- fuck it. Forget I said anything.”

Maybe it’s better if he just stops talking. It’s not like the others at the table can’t see how fit Harry looks now, with his ridiculous hair and those ridiculous dimples. Only, Liam is looking quite concerned and Eleanor looks like she just wants to come over and squeeze him to death, and Nick doesn’t understand. Nobody is looking at Matt like that.

It’s quiet throughout the pub, and Nick realises that the boys on stage have finished their song and there’s polite applause going around.

“Thanks!” Niall grins and he slips of his stool. He quickly walks to the side of the stage and grabs another guitar. Handing it to Harry, he can see the other boy replying with a smile. Louis scoffs next to him and he hears him murmur ‘I hope he screws this up’ to Eleanor, and somehow Nick can remember Harry telling him that Niall’s been teaching him to play but that he’s still rubbish. Eleanor elbows Louis in the side, making the other boy pout.

“Behave.”

“Maybe we should have told him not to...” Zayn says, biting his lip and he nods to the stage.

Matt is back to staring at the stage, a soft smile on his lips and Nick really, really needs to talk to him when they’re home again. When Nick zooms back to the stage, Niall just finished tuning his guitar and he nods to the other boy.

“Alright, so. For this song, we’re going to do things a bit different. I’m releasing Niall from half of his duty” –more laughs this time- “and I’m going to try and do two things at the same time as well.”

Harry strums the strings a few times and apparently he’s pleased with the sound because he softly starts the beginning of another song.

“We couldn’t really decide on which song to pick, so we’re doing a cover that our mate picked. Thank you, Lou.”

Liam’s slowly turning his head and Louis is the picture of pure innocence.

“Please tell me you picked something appropriate, Lou...”

“Of course I did,” Louis scoffs and there’s a small slur in his speech, “This is a completely appropriate for a pub night. ‘M just helping him along a bit.”

The strumming of guitars gets louder, and before Liam can interrogate Louis further, Harry has opened his mouth and has started singing.

_You were working as a waitress in a cocktail bar_  
 _When I met you_  
 _I picked you out, I shook you up_  
 _And turned you around_  
 _Turned you into someone new_

Zayn lets out a loud laugh beside him, but all Nick can do is focus on the stage. Harry looks the complete opposite of what he looked liked with the previous song, and even from a distance Nick can see the glimmer in his eyes, his dimples on full display.

_Don't. Don't you want me?_  
 _You know I can't believe it when I hear that you won't see me_  
 _Don't. Don't you want me?_  
 _You know I don't believe you when you say that you don't need me_

Harry even manages to get a little shimmy in there somewhere, and for some reason this song shouldn’t work, but it _does_. Everyone else in the bar is looking quite impressed and Nick feels a rush of pride floating through him.

_I was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar_  
 _That much is true_  
 _But even then I knew I'd find a much better place_  
 _Either with or without you_  
 _The five years we have had have been such good at times_  
 _I still love you_  
 _But now I think it's time I lived my life on my own_  
 _I guess it's just what I must do_

This time it’s Niall singing, slightly higher than Harry and Nick can’t explain why he suddenly feels jealous when Niall winks at the other boy. The last two minutes don’t make any sense. Sure, he’d always realised that Harry was fit –he isn’t blind- but seeing him on stage, doing what he loves, gives Nick such a rush of affection and it’s wrong, wrong, wrong. Harry is his _student_ for fuck’s sake, and no matter how much Harry makes him laugh or kisses his cheek when he leaves, that could never happen. But somehow Nick still _wants_ and he suddenly feels sick.

_Don't you want me, baby?_  
 _Don't you want me? Oh!_  
 _Don't you want me, baby?_  
 _Don't you want me? Oh!_

Yes. Yes, he does. He has no idea how in one day –or more like, three minutes- he went from seeing Harry as his friend to feeling like holding hands, kissing and touching, but he _does_ and he doesn’t know how to handle it.

The guitar strumming stops and the stage lights dims. Before Nick even realises what he’s doing, he’s sliding out of the booth, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes and he quickly makes his way to the exit.

“Grimmy, wait!” Matt calls out to him and Nick really doesn’t have time for all this bullshit. He doesn’t want to talk to Harry after this, he doesn’t know what to do with himself and he just really, really wants to get out and go to his flat.

So instead of doing the sensible thing and actually talking to Matt or anybody about this, he just slams the pub door shut behind him and starts running. Runs, runs, runs. It only takes him ten minutes before he’s running down his street, and he scrambles to get his key from his pocket. His phone keeps buzzing in his back pocket and Nick desperately wants to smash it against the wall just to make it stop, but he really can’t afford a new one. In the end he just silences it and skips up the three flights of stairs to his flat.

It’s dark when he enters and for one fleeting moment he’s glad. But then the events come rushing back to him and he desperately needs to talk to someone who doesn’t know Harry, and he knows that only Tina and Fiona fall into that category at this moment. He’s talked to Matt more about Harry than he likes to admit at this point, and even Ian knows that he’s friends with him. He doesn’t even dare to Skype with Daisy right now –he can hear the ‘I told you so’ already- and there’s not really anybody else he’s that close to. Except for his mum, but it’s after eleven and that’s not happening.

He kicks of his shoes, shrugs off his jacket, tosses it on the ground somewhere and softly makes his way to his bedroom. There’s only one option here, really, and even though he will probably never hear the end of this for years, he stops at the second door and knocks softly.

“Fifi? You awake?” he asks softly and when there’s a soft murmur he opens the door a bit further.

He can see both of them sprawled out under the covers and for one fleeting moment he feels bad for interrupting them. Just for a fleeting moment, and then his mind is running back in circles with _‘he’s your student, he’s twenty, he’s your student, you’re too old’_ and he just really wants to be held right now.

When he gets closer to the bed he can see that Fiona is watching him, her arms already holding up the covers for him. He carefully climbs over Tina, careful not to wake her, and snuggles down between the two of them.

The bed is definitely not made for three twenty-somethings having a sleep over, but for some reason he immediately feels calmer when Fiona sneaks one arm around his chest and cuddles up close to him. Nick leans in to her, one arm holding onto hers, his other one wrapping around Tina’s hip and this is what home feels like.

“What’s up, love?” Fiona whispers in his ear and Nick can feel Tina stirring slightly. “Where’s Matt?”

“Left him at the pub,” Nick mumbles and his stomach won’t stop turning and wow- he’s such a shitty friend for leaving his best mate with a bunch of strangers.

“You want to tell me what’s wrong then?”

It feels like he’s back at grade school, all cuddled up under the covers and whispering in the dark about boys and the latest crushes. Nick’s positive that he couldn’t have this conversation in daylight though, so the darkness it is.

“You know the student I’ve been giving tutoring sessions for the past month?”

He can feel Fiona nod and Nick takes a deep breath.

“IthinkImightbefallinginlovewithhim?”

“Oh, love...” Fiona presses him closer to her and Nick wants to remind her that he isn’t five years old anymore, and doesn’t need to be held that bad, but it’s also really nice. Her hair his tickling his neck, her breath caressing his check and her boobs are pressed against his back which is somewhat weird, now that he thinks about it.

“It’s just... I don’t know what to do? And I just realised tonight and now everything is going to be shite and I don’t know what to do about it... Like, do I tell him? Or do I just ignore it and hope it goes away? I’ve been telling him since the start that he’s can’t flirt with me or use any of his horrible pick-up lines, and now I’m falling for him? His friends most likely know and they probably want me to stay away from him, and maybe that’s just for the best...” he rambles and he squeezes the arm covering his.

Before Nick’s brain has even caught up, he’s spilling the whole story to her. How they met, their meetings at the coffee shops, him meeting Louis, Zayn, Niall, Liam, how Harry always seems to make him laugh, how his whole face lights up when he sees something he’s passionate about, how Harry showed him all the outfits he knitted for Dusty and tells her about the ridiculous text messages he’s gotten in the past few weeks. The pick-up lines and the x’s, the twitter updates and instagram pictures.

“You really like this guy, yeah?”

“Maybe. No. Yes.” Urgh.

“So wait until he isn’t your student anymore and then take him on a date? I’m about eighty per cent sure that’s allowed...”

“Don’t listen to her.”

Nick’s heart skips in his chest, and his leg spasms and hits something hard. There’s both a ‘jesus’ and ‘fuck’ going through the bedroom and Nick takes a few breaths.

“Warn a guy, jeez, Tina.” He reprimands and he squeezes the hip he’s holding onto just that little bit tighter.

“Well, I didn’t get a warning before I woke up with your ugly mug in my bed, so I think we’re even.”

There’s the shuffling of sheets and seconds later Nick is sandwiched between his two best friends, their hands locked on his hip. It’s nice.

“As I was saying,” Tina continues, “Don’t listen to her. You need someone to settle down with and you can’t settle down with a twenty-year old. You should get your own flat, adopt a few kids, be happy. You don’t need an university kid with co-dependent mates, you need a proper man.”

“You want me to get my own flat?” Nick exclaims.

“Of course I want you to get your own bloody flat! You’re currently lying between me and my girlfriend on our anniversary after we’ve just had some of the best sex we’ve had in the last month. So yes.”

It’s quiet and for once Nick is speechless. Anniversary, right. The reason why they couldn’t come to the pub with them. He’s about to apologise when something else pops up in his brain.

“Co-dependent mates? How do you even know that? I didn’t even talk to you about him!”

He has given up the pretence of whispering now that everybody’s awake anyway, and their neighbours are possibly not that happy with their noise-level, but Nick’s got other pressing matters on his mind right now.

“I still talk to Matt, you idiot.” It sounds like an insult but it’s accompanied by two lips touching his forehead.

“So you’re saying that I shouldn’t do anything?” He doesn’t actually want to know her answer but he knows she’s right anyway. There’s no way there’s a future for him and Harry. They both want different things in life and Harry’s still in university anyway. He should be able to do university things, without having an almost thirty-year old boyfriend who still doesn’t really know what to do with his life except for teach French. Which he might not be able to do any longer; not if his colleagues ever find out what’s going on in his head right now.

“I’m saying that you can make your own decisions but that you probably need to think about this long term as well. He’s your student. You’re not allowed to openly date, so you’d have to keep it a secret. Do you think he’s up for that? Not talking to his friends about you –apart from those he lives with- or being able to be seen with you? Sure, if Harry wants to be with you that’s lovely, but for how long do you think he can keep that up? And then there’s the whole age difference. You’ve always said you want kids Nick, and you want them sooner rather than later. He’s only what? Eighteen? Nineteen? Do you really think he wants kids any time soon?”

There’s a cough from behind him and apart from the pressure against his back, he’d almost forgotten Fiona was still there as well.

“Can I just state that Harry isn’t your student anymore?”

“What?”

“Well, he passed his exam today, so I guess that at least your tutoring sessions are over and he’s dropping French after this, right?”

She’s right. There’s only one exam left for Harry and then he’s done with French. Done with Nick as his TA. Suddenly, everything seems a little bit lighter and brighter and he squeezes the hand he’s holding just a little bit tighter.

“Can we please just go back to sleep now?” Tina asks and Nick nods in agreement. Sleep sounds damn good right now. He tugs Tina just that little bit closer, her arm curling around him finding Fiona’s back. His legs get tangled up between four others, and it’s comforting in a way that has Nick nodding off within seconds.

__________________________________

The next couple of days are shit.

His thoughts have been running on high since he woke up that morning sandwiched between Fiona and Tina and realised it would probably better if he just stays clear of Harry for a while. Maybe a little space will make sure his feelings ebb away, and if they don’t Nick figures it’s probably better for the both of them if they’re not friends any more. Sure, technically he’s not _his_ student any more, but he’s still _a_ student and that could be just as frowned upon. He can’t give Harry what he wants and maybe some sacrifices have to be made.

It doesn’t make it any easier, though.

He has gotten dozen of texts from Harry in the past two days that he has ignored, and even one from Louis that said _‘don’t know what’s wrong with u mate but fix this!!!'_. On top of that, Matt’s been walking around the apartment like Nick’s going to break any moment, and Fiona might or might not be mostly giving him the cold shoulder. Nobody really seems to consider that this might not be what he wants as well, but that he’s just doing what’s best for everyone. It’s been just two days, but he misses Harry –and his stupid dimples and stupid hair- a bit more than he thought he would and on multiple occasions he has reached for his phone to text the curly boy, only to realise he isn’t technically allowed. There are no classes this week because of exams, and Nick kind of hates the fact that he has nothing to really distract him right now. Which is why he is lying stretched out on the couch, a movie playing in the background.

“Mate?” Matt is making his way towards him, careful steps and a calculated look on his face “Do you maybe want to talk about this?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Nick replies and he sees Matt shoot a look to the kitchen, where Nick knows for a fact Tina and Fiona are making dinner right now.

“I- are you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

Matt moves Nick’s legs a bit up before sitting down and pulling them in his lap. There’s just the sound of car crashes and explosions coming for the television and Nick either wants Matt to leave or talk, not just sit here in silence.

“I’m not really sure what happened?” Matt begins and Nick just hums in reply. “Tina and Fiona explained it a bit and I still don’t really understand. I really wanted to give you some space, but you’ve been moping around for two days now and maybe you need to figure some things out a bit. Why did you leave that night at the pub? You do know that you left me alone with a bunch of strangers, right?”

Nick admits that’s not one of his proudest moments. He never meant to leave the other man alone with a bunch of teenagers that he’d never even seen before, but all he remembers is having trouble breathing and wanting to leave, leave, leave.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers and a hand squeezes his ankle. “I just had to get out of there...”

“It’s fine. But why? That’s the one thing I don’t understand. Tina told me to ask you myself, so this is me asking if you don’t mind.”

“Because seeing Harry on that stage made me realise that I have feelings for Harry that aren’t just friendly and I can’t. It’s so wrong to feel this way about someone who is nine years younger. I can’t.”

“Can’t, or won’t?” Matt prompts and it only takes Nick a second to reply.

“Both. He’s so young. He’s still a student. Not mine anymore, but still a student. I can’t feel this way about a student. _I can’t_. And I won’t because Harry deserves so much more than me. If he even felt the same way about me, which he doesn’t.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No.”

“Then don’t go putting words in his mouth. You weren’t there after you left, obviously, but Harry looked hurt when he came to our table and you weren’t there. He clearly likes you. But you’ve been telling him for so long that he shouldn’t. He has no idea what’s going on here, Nick... He doesn’t know why you left because you didn’t tell him.”

Maybe it wasn’t his smartest decision to stop replying to his texts –or even stop reading them- but Nick knows he has to cut off their friendship. He can’t be just friends with Harry if he can’t stop thinking about his hands on the boy’s skin, his hands in the boy’s hair, his lips on the boy’s neck. It’s pathetic really, how much he’s been thinking about Harry in the past two days, and Nick is sure that it won’t stop if he still sees Harry every other day. He just needs some distance, some time to cool off.

“I just don’t think we should be friends anymore.”

“Then maybe try telling him that instead of sitting here like a coward on the couch, ignoring every single text message you get. Harry deserves an explanation. From you, and not from anybody else. Only you can make this right again, Nick.”

“What if I don’t want to make it right?”

Matt huffs and throws Nick feet of his lap. His face is like a thunderstorm, and there have only been a few occasions where Nick has seen his best mate this upset. It’s not a face he really likes to see directed at him.

“Fine. Be like that. Just know that he could make you happy and you’re throwing away your shot at happiness, Nick.”

With that, Matt storms out of the room, and a second later Nick hears the front door slam shut. He’s sitting paralysed on the couch, staring at the spot Matt just vacated and somewhere he hears another door softly opening.

“You ok, hun?”

Matt’s words ring through his head, Fiona’s voice only barely noticeable between all the noise in his head. _Your shot at happiness. He deserves an explanation. He clearly likes you. He could make you happy._

“Hun?”

Nick just shakes his head. He’s not okay. He screwed up, he doesn’t know what to do and he feels like crying his eyes out.

He quickly gets up from the couch, grabs the blanket and takes it with him because it’s still nil degrees in the flat without the heating, and hurries into his bedroom. He can feel Fiona’s eyes watching his every move and he doesn’t care. All he wants to is wallow in self pity and maybe figure out what he’s going to do.

His bedroom is a right state –pillows everywhere, clothes scattered all over the floor and dirty dishes covering the nightstands- but Nick flips down on his unmade bed nonetheless, shoving a pair of dirty jeans on the floor.

Somewhere deep down he knows Matt –and Fiona in some way- is right. He does owe Harry an explanation, and what if he is his one shot at happiness? What if he’s completely screwing this up for himself? It’s not like Harry is to blame for this. Sure, he was flirting at the beginning but only because he needed to pass his class, not because he was interested. And Nick knows that he can’t blame him for the fact that Nick hasn’t felt this comfortable about someone before and he’d only met him about a month ago. But if Matt is right and Harry is his shot at happiness, then why would he deny himself that? Why not just give it a go? Even if Harry turned him down –and he knows that possibility is definitely there- why not try? If you never try, you’ll never know and all that shit.

He has no idea what to do.

From his nightstand his phone buzzes and Nick had been wondering where he’d left that.

It’s Harry’s name on the screen, and for a moment he wants to toss the phone to the other side of the bedroom like he has done for the past two days, but then Matt’s words ring in his head again. With a sigh he makes himself comfortable in his bed by wrapping himself in the blanket, tugging the blankets up to his nose and he clicks ‘read’. About fifty text messages pop-up on his screen, all of them from Harry. Not wanting to read them all –he can already guess what most of them say anyway- he quickly skims them over.

The first one is a simple _‘nick?’_ , which, alright, he can handle. Five messages down and they’re getting more frantic.

_did something happen? are you ok? x_

_nick? x_

_im guessing you’re ignoring me and idk why_

_please talk to me nick_

_did i do something wrong???_

_i passed my theoretics as well. just letting you know._

_louis says your a giant knob and i’m starting to agree_

_could you please text me back????_

_nick, i don’t understand._

_talk to me._

There are about thirty more messages, each and every single one of them saying almost the same and Nick feels extremely guilty when he reaches the last one Harry just sent.

_if you wanna be this way, fine. if you ever man up enough to tell me what your problem is, you know where to find me. if not, have a nice life._

It’s way more vicious than he’d expect from Harry, but he knows he deserves it. His thumb is hovering over the ‘reply’ button, but he changes his mind and tosses his phone next to him on the pillow. It’s only six p.m. and he’s suddenly dead tired.

Tomorrow. He’ll deal with all this tomorrow.

__________________________________

When he walks into the kitchen the next morning, he doesn’t know what he expected, but it isn’t Niall standing at the stove, clad in only his pants.

“Niall?” he asks confusedly and there’s the sound of a spatula clattering in the pan as Niall turns around, his hand pressed against his chest, his eyes wide.

“Jesus, mate, give a guy a warning the next time!”

Nick just nods dumbly at him and he makes his way to the kettle, turning it on with a flick of his hand.

“What-” Nick clears his throat, “what are you doing here?”

“Oh. Uhm-” Niall’s plating breakfast on two plates and Nick opens the drawer for him, handing him two forks. He doesn’t reply to Nick’s question though, and instead he looks extremely uncomfortable.

“Niall?” Nick enquires. “What are you doing in my kitchen?”

“I was hungry?”

“I can see that. But why are you specifically in _my_ kitchen?”

The kettle flicks off and Nick pours himself a cup of tea, giving Niall a little more time to form his answer. Nick has some kind of idea why Niall is here, but Matt _wouldn’t_ , would he?

“I- It’s just... I had a sleepover?” Niall says and shakes his head when Nick offers him a cup of tea as well.

“A sleepover.”

“Yes?”

“You don’t sound very sure.”

Niall is still staring at him with wide eyes, holding a plate in each of his hands, obviously trying to leave.

“No, I am. I had a sleepover. With Matt. I’m just getting him, us, breakfast. That’s why I’m in the kitchen. Yes.”

So in other words, Niall slept with Matt. Or more importantly, Matt slept with Niall. He doesn’t understand how it happened, not really, but it he should probably just roll with it.

“Alright,” he shrugs and grabs his mug from the counter, making his way to the living room. He’ll grab breakfast later.

“Alri- that’s it? That’s really all you have to say?” Niall asks puzzled and Nick nods. So what if his best mate has his love life more under control than he has. He can handle it.

“You’re not gonna yell at me for sleeping with your best mate?”

“No, why would I?” Now it’s Nick’s turn to be puzzled. Does he have a reason to yell?

“Because yesterday you told him how wrong it was to be lusting after someone so much younger? And I know I’m twenty-one and not twenty, but I didn’t think a year would make that much a difference for you. Or is Matt allowed, and is it just you who isn’t?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nick mumbles and he _does_. In his head it isn’t weird when it’s MattandNiall but it is when it’s NickandHarry. He realises the double standard but has no idea how to fix it. He does realise that he probably owes Matt an apology for everything he said last night that might have hurt him.

“I think you have a problem, mate.” Niall doesn’t say it accusingly, but it still feels like someone stabbed him. He hears plates being put down, and Nick wants to tell him to just _leave_ , have his breakfast with Matt, but before he can get the words out, Niall is standing right in front of him, looking him right in the eye.

“I’m sorry,” Niall says and Nick blinks at him. What? “It’s just that Matt kind of told me everything that went on, and I think you’re an idiot. You’re an idiot for walking out of the pub, and you’re an idiot for not replying to Harry’s texts. He’s been miserable without you. Not even Dusty could console him. I know you’re probably having some sort of existential crisis right now, but I need you to fix it.”

Niall pushes him down in one of the chairs and he pushes a plate to Nick. “Eat.”

Nick shakes his head. “No, it’s not my breakfast. Give it to Finchy.”

“You need it more, he can wait. I’ll make something else later.”

There’s nothing to do but nod and Nick digs into the toast with bacon.

“Look. Do you have a problem with me and Matt?”

“What? No.” That is so not the point here, Nick thinks. If Matt wants to fuck a twenty-one year old, that’s his business.

“Alright. That’s good to know, I guess. But then why do you have a problem with Harry?”

Nick wants to open his mouth and say that he doesn’t have a problem with Harry per se, but the words don’t come easily.

“Because,” he starts, “because he’s a student and I can’t go around fucking students. I’m a TA, I’m not allowed.”

“You know, Liam looked that one up after I told him what happened. Apparently you’re allowed to date students as long as they’re not in your class.”

“Who said anything about dating?”

“I did.” Niall says. “So that argument is completely invalid. What’s the next one? Age? Because I can tell you right now that Harry doesn’t give a shit.”

“You don’t know that. You can’t know that.” He takes another bite of his bacon, not wanting to elaborate anymore. He feels completely ridiculous, getting lectured by a twenty-one year old nonetheless, and this whole situation is just too surreal for him to grasp at this moment.

“I do know that. Harry has dated people before, you know.” Nick nods. “Caroline was thirty-two, I think. Something like that. They dated when Harry was seventeen, kept it going for about half a year until she had to move to the States for work. Everybody gave him shit for it, gave her shit for it, but he just shrugged it off. Harry’s never given a damn about what anybody else thought, and he still doesn’t. So I can say with hundred percent certainty that he does not care about your age. Not one damn bit.”

Nick knows that Harry’s dated before, but they had never talked about the details. It had never come up for some reason, apart from the fact that they skimmed over it; Harry saying he didn’t care about gender, just people and that he had had some relationships in the past, but had never met the one. Nick had been tight lipped about his relationships, only giving away that he had had some in the past as well, but hadn’t dated for at least two years. Maybe they should have talked about it more, foregoing this whole mess.

“What if I care?” Nick asks and Niall raises his eyebrow. “What if I care about age? What if I don’t want him to commit to me. I don’t want to be the person that withholds him from having the whole university experience and having him resent me for the rest of his life. He doesn’t need a twenty-nine year old boyfriend waiting for him at home while he gets drunk at parties. He doesn’t need someone who’s already thinking about having kids while he still is a kid. I just don’t see it working.”

“I think you really need to talk to him, mate.” Niall says and maybe he’s right. Maybe he needs to talk to Harry, just to get all of this out of the way so they can be friends again.

Nick nods at him and Niall stands up from the table, putting his dishes in the sink.

“Just don’t wait too long, okay? You’re already on the top of Louis’ list of people he wants to murder in cold blood, and you don’t want to be on that list for too long. We’re still not sure what he’s capable of.”

Nick’s sure that he’s joking, but he still nods his understanding. Before Niall walks out of the door, he calls out to the boy.

“Niall? I don’t know what’s going on between you and Matt, but do know that if you somehow manage to break that iron heart of his, you’ll be at the top of my list. Understood?”

A big smile is the only reply that he gets before Niall leaves the kitchen, and Nick sinks down in his chair. That was an eventful morning, and it isn’t even past ten a.m. yet.

Nick only realises ten minutes later they’d been talking about Harry like he was a done deal. Like there was no question about him liking Nick as well. The way Niall talked about them was like it was just Nick refusing, while Harry was just waiting for him to change his damn mind and text him.

Quickly putting his dishes in the sink, he raced to his bedroom to get dressed as quickly as possible. He had somewhere to go.

____________________________________

Staring at the door, Nick takes a deep breath. The last time he felt this nervous was when he had his job interview at the local library and that was over a two years ago. He raises his hand to knock on the door, making sure to take deep, long breaths. He realises that this could go both ways, and he quickly revises his speech in his head. Alright.

The door opens and Zayn’s standing in front of him, wearing a pair of sweatpants that are hanging low on his hips. He’s not wearing a t-shirt, and there’s a visible love bite near his collarbone. Nick blinks a few times before raising his eyes and Zayn’s staring at him, his face unimpressed.

“I was wondering when you were coming over,” he states and swings the door open, inviting Nick in. The flat is impeccably clean and Nick wonders how that is even possible with five boys living there. Liam’s sitting on the couch and Nick raises his hands in a cautious wave. He has no idea where he stands with these guys –apart from Louis, if Niall’s telling the truth- and he has no idea what kind of treatment to expect.

“He’s in his room,” Liam says to him and vaguely points to a door on the right side of the room. “Please fix this. I can’t stand the moping for another day.”

Nick still has no idea what everybody keeps trying to tell him when they say ‘fix’, but he’s willing to try. He just gives them both a nod, letting them continue whatever the hell they were doing before they got interrupted by his visit, and he drags his feet to the door he thinks Liam pointed at, knocking softly.

“Hazza?”

“Wrong room, idiot. Go ‘way.” Louis’ voice comes through the door and Nick could kill himself in embarrassment right now.

“Shit, sorry.” He takes a deep breath and looks over his shoulder to Liam and Zayn, who both shrug their shoulders in apology and Liam waves him one door over.

“Hazza?” Nick says softly again and there comes no reply. “H, you in there?”

There’s some rumbling noise from inside and within a few seconds the door is opened on a small crack and Harry’s head pokes out.

“Hi,” Harry says softly and Nick suddenly has no idea why he started ignoring him.

“Hiya,” Nick replies and he nods inside, “Would it be okay if I came in for a bit?”

Harry just nods and opens the door a bit wider for him. Nick steps inside and is immediately overwhelmed by how much the room just seems to scream ‘Harry’. The walls are painted a soft beige and are covered by pictures of him and his friends, ticket stubs and posters. The carpet is dark blue and completely clean, in contrast to Nick’s own room (and the rest of his flat, really). It’s a simple room with just a desk, bed, nightstand and dresser, but looks homely and cosy.

“Please, sit,” Harry says and points to his bed. Nick sits down carefully, patting the space beside him and he can see Harry hesitate for a second before sitting down next to him, Dusty safely cradled in one of his hands.

“I just need to explain some things,” Nick starts, skipping the formalities. “I haven’t been really fair to you with the not texting and ignoring you, and I really owe you an apology for that. I’m so sorry, Hazza. I just didn’t know what else to do...”

“Then explain, please,” Harry pleads and Nick nods. He leans back on the bed a little bit, his hand dangerously close to Harry’s and it would be so, so easy to grab it and never let go.

“I’m still not a hundred per cent sure of what happened myself, but that night at the pub everything kind of changed for me? Like, you looked so gorgeous with your dimples on full display and that ridiculous scarf in your hair and I just... Couldn’t really deal with it. With my feelings. So I ran. I thought that ignoring you for a few days would make everything easier and stuff, but it didn’t. And then Niall talked some sense into me this morning and I just realised that I really needed to talk to you about this instead of deciding everything on my own, so here I am.”

Harry’s staring at the floor, methodically petting his kitten and not saying anything. Nick takes a deep breath before continuing.

“I came here to talk to you and I understand if you don’t want that. Just say the words and I’ll leave. If you want, we never have to talk again, but I just wanted to apologise to you and- yeah. That’s it. I wanted to apologise. You didn’t deserve this radio silence and I’m sorry.”

“I still don’t understand,” Harry whispers and Nick makes a grabbing motion at Dusty. The kitten scoots out of Harry’s hand and lies down on the left pillow, leaving Nick to take Harry’s now empty hand.

“I like hanging out with you, Harry,” Nick says and Harry stares at him. “All the time. And if you want me, I’m here. In whatever way you want, I guess.”

“What are you saying?” Nick decides to go for the bold approach, since Harry apparently can’t take a hint.

“That I’m either here to run my hands through your hair and kiss you senseless, or to be just your friend.”

“Are you quoting Taylor Swift at me?”

“What? No!” Nicks snorts and he squeezes Harry’s hand. Taylor Swift, honestly.

“Oh, alright.”

“All I know is that since that night at the pub everything has changed for me, and I would really, really like to know how you feel about all this...”

“Are you sure you’re not doing this on purpose?” There’s a smile on Harry’s face and Nick sighs in relief. Still, Harry’s missing the point completely here.

“Harry! Focus, please?”

“Yes, of course. Yes. Uhm. So let me get this straight. You like me, right? As more than a friend? That’s what you’re saying? ”

“Basically, yes.”

“Alright. That’s good.”

“Good?” Nick asks confused.

“Yes, very good, I’d say.” Harry replies and he goes to sit sideways on the bed, facing Nick, his legs crossed. “Great, even. Since you know, I fancy the pants off you.”

“Oh.”

Well. That’s... some kind of relief. He’s not just making an arse out of himself here, then. Harry likes him too, that’s good indeed. Nick just has no idea how to continue from this point on. What does he say?

“There’s just one thing that I still don’t understand,” Harry interrupts his train of thought and Nick bobs his head at him to continue. “Why did you run away? I mean, I think I understand it a bit, but is it so weird to like me? I mean, I know I’ve got these weird quirks and a kitten I treat like my baby, but I can change that all. I would. For you, I mean.”

Nick stops Harry by squeezing his hand and he lifts his other hand from the bed, gripping Harry’s chin.

“Listen. It has nothing to do with who you are. You are an incredible person and you don’t need to change for anyone, understand. Not for me, not for anyone. Got it?”

Harry nods and Nick lets go of his chin, instead rubbing his hands over his thighs. They’re sweaty in a way he didn’t even know was possible, and he knows he owes Harry another explanation.

“I ran because I was... scared, I guess. You are- were my student, and was just feeling so confused about you. I went from one day thinking of you as my friend in the morning, to realising I might be feeling more than just friendship in the evening. And you are so young Harry-“ he can see the boy opening his mouth and Nick shushes him, “I know- okay? But you’re nine years younger than I am. I just don’t want to take advantage of you, or ruin your time at university by being the boring partner who is a lecturer at the same university you go to. And, also like, I want kids. And I’d love to have them next week instead of next year if it were possible, and I completely understand that you’re not even thinking about them yet, and you obviously don’t have to, but that’s how I’ve always seen my-”

“I want kids,” Harry interrupts and Nick stares at him. “I want kids. Maybe not next week but I do want them. Maybe like right after I’ve finished uni? Or before that, I don’t care. What I’m trying to say is that you’ve been thinking about this too much.”

He hasn’t been thinking about this _enough_ , but somehow the only things that are running through his mind right now are that Harry apparently likes him back and he wants kids. Nick can wait three years, probably. If he has to.

“I don’t care about your age,” Harry continues,” I don’t care about your job, and I don’t care about what other people think. The only opinions that matter to me are the ones of the people living in this house and they’ve never cared about whom I’m dating; they only want me happy. And you make me happy, Nick. The first time you gave a lecture I had no idea what you were saying but I was completely mesmerised by your voice and enthusiasm. When we started tutoring you were just so easy to get along with and talk to and I could feel my crush getting bigger every single day but I promised myself not to say anything because I know how these things usually work. They don’t. But then we suddenly became friends and that’s honestly all I expected us ever to be. And don’t get me wrong, it was great! I love being your friend. But I would love to be your boyfriend, or partner if you will, even more. If you really want me.”

“Of course I want you,” Nick huffs, “I didn’t just pour my heart out to you and then change my mind afterwards.”

“Good.” Harry is giving him one of his signature grins and Nick can’t help but give him one in return. “So, what happens now?”

“I guess we’ll have to be boyfriends then, won’t we?” If possible, Harry’s grin gets even bigger and for some reason Nick can hear the clear ‘I knew it!’ from Daisy in his head that he’s likely to get as soon as he tells her.

“But,” Nick starts and he can see Harry’s face fall a bit, “let’s just keep this for ourselves at uni, alright? I don’t care that everybody will know, but no PDA or stuff like that... I am still a TA and I really like my job and I wouldn’t look good if I were to go kissing students in the hallways.”

“Yes. Of course. No problem,” Harry reassures him and somehow a weight lifts of his shoulders. They can do this, no doubt about that. They’ll make this work, as long as they talk about it. There will be looks and people will talk but they’ve got each other now, right?

“Thank you,” he says softly and he tugs Harry just that little bit closer so that their foreheads are resting together. They’re both quiet, processing things, and if Nick listens hard enough he can hear Louis talking in the room next to them, a female voice answering him, and Nick really hopes that he didn’t interrupt anything important when he knocked on that door because he will never hear the end of that. From the living room he can't hear anything and it’s pretty clear what they’re doing. Nick just hopes that he won't get an eyeful when he leaves the room in the future.

“So,” Harry breaks the silence and he bobs his nose against Nick’s, “there’s going to be kissing?”

Nick blinks at him. “What?”

“Well, you said no kissing students in the hallway. So I was wondering if there was going to be kissing anywhere in the foreseeable future??” Harry says cheekily and Nick rolls his eyes in reply. This boy, honestly.

“Yes, there’s going to be kissing,” he states and before he can change his mind, he pushes just that little bit further and presses his lips against Harry’s.

There’s a sharp inhale of breath and then the pressure against Nick’s lips increases. Nick slides his hands across Harry’s thighs before settling on his hips and Harry lets out a soft whimper that Nick uses to slide their mouths better together. Harry’s hands tangle in his hair, gripping onto the short strands, and Nick grips the pair of hips he’s holding onto just that little bit tighter. His whole body tingles and he honestly can’t remember the last time he felt like this from just kissing. His breathing is laboured, and Harry’s tongue is battling for dominance and it’s everything Nick never knew he wanted but got anyway.

He can feel Harry’s body heat through his clothes, and when he slides one of his hands under his t-shirt, Harry’s breath hitches. Nick can feel his own heart racing while he traces patterns into Harry’s back and everything feels safe.

Slowly, their mouths are starting to move more lazily, and Nick gives Harry one last peck before letting go of his hips and letting his head rest on his shoulder. He can feel his cock straining against his jeans but neither Nick nor Harry are willing to take this any further, not when there’s so much to talk and think about.

“You okay?” Harry asks and Nick nods mutely against his neck. “You wanna lie down?”

Harry manoeuvres them so that they’re lying on top of the covers, a head of curls resting on top of Nick’s chest, the rest of their limbs tangled together. It’s peaceful like this and when he tells Harry, he can feel the boy nodding.

“We should sleep for a bit. Haven’t been sleeping that well.”

Nick feels guilty for a fleeting moment but then Harry presses a soft kiss against his sternum and Nick figures he’s forgiven.

“Okay,” he mumbles softly and his arm tugs the other boy closer to his body.

“We need to wake up before tea though. I’m on cooking duty.” Harry sounds sleepy already even though it’s only eleven o’clock in the morning; Nick thinks it’s adorable.

“We will.” he replies.

Harry curls into his side a bit more, letting out a soft yawn and Nick ignores the butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. He reaches in his pocket for his phone and quickly sets an alarm.

“Sleep well, love.” he whispers and when there’s no reply, he lets out a soft laugh and closes his own eyes as well. Might as well get some sleep in.

__________________________________

When they wake up, it’s not to Nick’s alarm, but to a hard knock on the door followed by a ‘I’m fucking hungry, Haz. Feed us!’ After another five minute cuddle and a minor snog, they finally get themselves out of bed and into the kitchen; Nick standing useless at the counter and Harry opening cabinets and grabbing pots and pans.

“Whaddya think?” Harry asks while he’s digging through some drawers, and Nick’s texting an apology to Matt, “Lasagne or a quiche?”

Both, Nick thinks, but before he can even answer there’s a loud ‘lasagna!’ coming from the living room and Harry snorts.

“I wasn’t asking you, Lou! But thanks for your input. El, keep him in check!”

The next hour is dedicated to chopping veggies, assembling layers, and trying to steal a kiss without cutting or burning his fingers. He and Harry talk about everything and anything that they didn’t talk about before during their tutor sessions. Nick finds it incredibly easy to share parts of his life with the other boy that he hasn’t shared with anyone else, apart from his best friends. He tells Harry about his past relationship, how insignificant he felt and how Fiona basically picked him up and put him back together. He tells him about struggling through university but excelling at French and putting all his focus on that. He tells about the partying, how he met his friends and how even if they’re fighting every other week, he still loves them more than anything else.

In return, Harry tells him about having no friends in high school because he was so focussed on his studies, but how pleased and grateful he is for the friends he now has, and how he loves to party but study as well. He tells him about his family at home, how his mum had been so confused when Harry told her that he liked boys as well as girls, but how she had accepted him nonetheless and kept loving him. He also tells him how he’s glad he found himself, figured out what he likes and doesn’t like and how he doesn’t care what or how other people think about him.

Before Nick knows it, the food is ready and everybody is seated around the table. He’s seated between Liam and Niall –who returned about five minutes ago and gave Nick a ridiculous thumbs up when he saw him standing in the kitchen- and Harry is sitting across from him. The table is crowded with both Eleanor and Nick as extras, but Nick can see himself sitting here every evening if he has to. You know, if he wouldn’t upset Matt by not coming to his suppers anymore. Although, Matt would probably be more than welcome here.

There’s banter throughout the meal and everybody seems happy to chat while eating, even asking Nick’s opinions and it doesn’t feel awkward. It’s overwhelming but in a really good way and if he knew that it could have felt like this, he would have foregone his whole crisis. He basks in their dynamics, reminding him of his own friends, and when he feels Harry’s ankle twisting around his own he gives him a soft smile.

‘You alright?’ Harry mouths at him and Nick nods back.

He’s never been better.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://brokenpartsmightfit.tumblr.com)


End file.
